I splash it across the canvas. One giant swipe and the vermillion oil is there, making its mark on empty, white space. “I am red,” it exclaims. “I am the beginnings of art.”
It stands alone, basking in solitary glory while I debate the next move. Who joins vermillion on this stage? Who works with it, or against, to create a performance worthy of applause? Orange will not compete, and teal will only aggravate the harmony I’m trying to explore.
Eggplant raises its hand and swoops valiantly below the red. “Let’s sing,” it croons. “Let’s make this play a musical.”
“Oh, Eggplant,” Midnight Blue sighs. “We are not Broadway, we are the Globe! Sophisticated and dark. Poetic in our words and giant, sweeping moves across the stage.”
And Midnight marches grandly overhead, back and forth, back and forth, until it has set the dramatic backdrop for the rest of my colors to come into play.
Teal is less afraid now. It finds a lone spot where it can sit and watch the action unfold, a mere extra in the bigger scene.
Vermillion begs for a bigger part and drags Goldenrod into view. “Act like you’re my friend. We’re partners, comrades.” Goldenrod raises its wand and blows a golden halo of dust into the night sky.
“Let’s try to think good thoughts,” says a wistful Rose, hoping to get a bigger role as well. Its small, delicate voice accents the bold gestures of those who’ve arrived to give us one heck of a show.
An ensemble of colors grouped around the canvas, battling for a solo, holding hands when the dance number begins. And they dance and twirl, around and around, dipping and swirling, leaping high and crouching low, while others gently sway their arms and hips from side to side.
This is the show as it plays out in my head. Traipsing down my forearm to the brush gripped in my hand. Inspired by gobs of paint waiting for their chance to shine.